AN ERRING BROTHER

by: Unknown

Next to the word Mother, no word in our language has
more meaning and music in it than the word Brother. It is from above,
and it reaches to the deep places of the heart. It is religion on its
human side; and in it lies the hope of humanity. The highest dream of
the prophets is of a time when men shall be Brothers.

When used Masonically, the word Brother has a depth
and tenderness all its own, unique and is beautiful beyond words. It
tells of a tie, mystical but mighty, which Masonry spins and weaves between
man and man, which no one can define and few can resist. In time of
sorrow it is a tether of sympathy and a link of loyalty.

Of course, like all other words, it is common enough,
and may be glibly used without regard to its real meaning. Like the
word God, it may be a coin worn smooth, or a flower faded. But when
its meaning is actually and fully felt, no other word is needed among us,
except on occasions of high Masonic Ceremony, when we add the word
Worshipful, or some other term of title or rank.

No other word has a finer import or a more ample
echo, expressive of the highest relationship in which dignity and devotion
unite. If we are really Brothers, all the rest may go by the board,
save for sake of ceremony. If we are not truly Brothers, all titles
are empty and of no avail. For that reason, to omit the word Brother
when speaking Masonically is not only a lack of courtesy, but shows a want
of fineness of feeling.

What does the word Brother mean, Masonically?
It means the adoption of a man into an inner circle of friendship, by a
moral and spiritual tie as close and binding as the tie of common birth and
blood between two brothers in a family. Nothing else, nothing less;
and this implies a different attitude the one to the other - related not
distant, united not opposed, natural and unrestrained - wherein are revealed
what the old writers used to call “The Happy and Beneficial Effects of our
Ancient and Honorable Institution.”

Since this is so, surely we ought to exercise as much
caution and judgment in bringing a new member into the Lodge as we do in
inviting an outsider into the family circle. Carelessness here is the
cause of most of our Masonic ills, frictions and griefs. Unless we are
assured beyond all reasonable doubt that a man is a brotherly man to whom
Masonry will appeal, and who will justify our choice, we ought not to
propose his name or admit him to our fellowship.

Still, no man is perfect; and the Lodge is a moral
workshop in which the rough Ashlar is to be polished for use and beauty.
If the Lodge had been too exacting, none of us would have gained admission.
At best we must live together in the Lodge, as elsewhere, by Faith, Hope and
Charity; else Masonry will be a failure. The Brotherly Life may be
difficult, but it is none the less needful. Our faith in another way
may be repelled, or even shattered - what then?

Nothing in life is sadder than the pitiful moral
breakdowns of good men, their blunders and brutalities. Who knows his
own heart, or what he might do under terrible trial or temptation?
Often enough qualities appear or emerge of which neither man himself or his
friends were aware, and there is a moral wreck. Some “Defect of Will
or Taint of Blood,” some hidden yellow streak, some dark sin shows itself,
and there is disaster. A man highly respected and deeply loved goes
down suddenly like a tree in a storm, and we discover under the smooth bark
that the inside was rotten. What shall we do? Of course, in
cases of awful crime the way is plain, but we have in mind the erring
Brother who does injury to himself, his Brother or the Lodge. An old
Stoic teacher gave a good rule, showing us that much depends on the handle
with which we take hold of the matter. If we say, “My Brother has
INJURED me,” it will mean one thing. If we say, “My BROTHER has
injured Me,” it will mean another; and that is what the Brotherly Life
means, if it means anything.

Every Master of a Lodge knows how often he is asked
to arraign a Brother, try him and expel him from the Fraternity. It is
easy to be angry and equally easy to be unjust. If he is a wise
Master, he will make haste slowly. There is need of tact, patience;
and, above all sympathy - since all good men are a little weak and a little
strong, a little good and a little bad; and anyone may lose his way,
befogged by passion or bewitched by evil. It is a joy to record that
Masons, for the most part, are both gentle and wise in dealing with a
Brother who has stumbled along the way. Masonic charity is not a myth;
it is one of the finest things on earth.

What shall we do? If we see a Brother going
wrong in Masonry, or in anything else - “Spoiling his Work,” as the old
Masons used to say - well, we must take him aside and talk to him gently,
man to man, Brother to Brother; and show him the right way. He may be
ignorant, weak or even ugly of spirit - driven by some blind devil as all of
us are apt to be - and if so our tact and Brotherly kindness may be tested
and tried; but more often than otherwise we can win him back to sanity.

Have you heard a tale about a Brother, a suggestion
of a doubt, an innuendo about his character, some hearsay story not to his
credit? If so, did you stand up for him, ask for proof, or invite
suspension of judgment until the facts could be heard; remembering that it
is your duty as a Mason to defend a Brother in his absence? Such
things are seldom said in his presence. It is not fair to tell him
what is being said and learn his side of the tale? If we fail in our
duty in such matters we fail of being a true Brother.

When we have learned the truth and have to face the
worst, what then? Long ago we knew an old Mason, long since gone to
the Great Lodge, who was chided by a Brother for continuing to trust a man
they both knew was taking advantage of the kindness shown him. The old
man replied:

“Yes, but you never know; I may touch the right chord
in is heart yet. He is not wholly bad, and some day, perhaps when I’m
dead and gone, he will hear the music and remember.” And he did!

Hear the music? Ah, if we would hear it we must
listen and wait, after we have touched “the right chord.” And if the
right chord is “In Us” something in him will respond, if he be not utterly
dead of soul! If he does respond, then you will have gained a friend
who will stick closer than a Brother. If he does not respond - and,
alas, sometimes they do not - then we must admit, with a heart bowed down,
that we have done our best, and failed. Some inherent failing, some
blind spot, has led him astray, dividing him from us by a gulf we cannot
bridge.

So a Mason should treat his Brother who goes astray;
not with bitterness, nor yet with good-natured easiness, nor with worldly
indifference, nor with philosophic coldness; but with pity, patience and
loving-kindness. A moral collapse is a sickness, loss, dishonor in the
immortal part of man. It is the darkest disaster, worse than death,
adding misery to guilt. We must deal faithfully but tenderly, firmly
but patiently with such tragedies.

It is facts such as these which show us what charity,
in a far deeper sense than monitory gifts, really means. It is as
delicate as it is difficult in that we are all men of like passions and
temptations. We all have that within us which, by a twist of
perversion, might lead to awful ends. Perhaps we have done acts,
which, in proportion to the provocation, are less excusable than those of a
Brother who grieves us by his sin. “Judge not lest ye yourselves be
judged.” Truly it was a wise saying, not less true today than when the old
Greek uttered it long ago, “Know Thyself.” Because we do not know
ourselves, it behooves us to put ourselves under the spell of all the
influences God is using for the making of men, among which the Spirit of
Masonry is one of the gentlest, wisest and most benign. If we let it
have its way with us it will build us up in virtue, honor and charity;
softening what is hard and strengthening what is weak.

If an erring Brother must be condemned, he must also
be deeply pitied. God pities him; Christ died for him; Heaven waits to
welcome him back with joy. He has done himself a far deeper injury
than he has done anyone else. In pity, prayer and pain let our hearts
beat in harmony with all the powers God is using for his recovery.
“There remaineth Faith, Hope and Charity; but the greatest of these is
Charity.”